There’s a woman that I love. I lay with her every night. We tell each other about our hopes, our dreams, and everything in between, and then we fall asleep.
My dreams torment me until I awake.
I find myself grasping for the heart beating beside me. Two hearts beating, but one of them feels broken. Hers is pure and steady; mine is erratic and staccato.
I remember the days I betray her. I focus on something so unimportant and so horrific that I can’t even look myself in the mirror. Blank eyes stare out at a broken soul that’s crying to get out.
When will I stop the torment? When will I say “enough is enough?”
I say it every day. I forget.
She has a hard time forgiving because her soul is completely open to me. I hold it, cradle it, and find my fingers crushing it before I realize the pain that is being caused. There are times when I feel like I can’t forgive myself, but I have to or else my baby will have no one to lie down with.
My mind is puzzled; the pieces are there but scattered to the winds. All of me loves her, but some of the pieces are upside down or flipped around completely. I’m scrambling to put them together. It is never fast enough.
Why do we hurt the people we love? Why do I say “I love you,” then turn around and bite her?
It’s a mad world they say. I think that they are right.
They say that I’m mad.
Mad as a hatter.
I can’t even fit the pieces right.
Addison's Writing 